


nowhere we need to be, a collection of quarantine vignettes

by kinghongjoong



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mentions of COVID-19, Multi, Quarantine, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinghongjoong/pseuds/kinghongjoong
Summary: Professor Park Seonghwa did not expect to be forced to spend the two-week quarantine period at his fuck buddy Kim Hongjoong’s apartment. Well, to be fair, he did not expect a pandemic to take over the world overnight with the government announcing lockdown measures on the night of his dick appointment, but what can he do?
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, mentioned Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, mentioned Kang Yeosang/Choi Jongho, minor Ahn Heeyeon | Hani/Ahn Hyojin | LE, minor Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi - Relationship, minor Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	nowhere we need to be, a collection of quarantine vignettes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Reeze, and all the other Atiny in Liberalis, but mainly for Reeze. Merry Christmas to my favorite Hongjoong of all! 
> 
> You know how even if it’s New Year’s Eve, we’re all still mentally stuck trying to process the events of March? This fic is part of my processing as it doubles as a ventfic: Seonghwa’s experiences in this story are based on my own experiences during the first two weeks of lockdown (except for the Google Meet birthday party, that came in November)! Even though Seonghwa’s experiences were relatively accurately mine, I did not have a Hongjoong to solve my problems. (I mean I did have my grandma on my ass for not sleeping at the best times, but.) 
> 
> Something called ‘Toss’ is mentioned here, and if context clues will not be enough to understand it, it’s an application that facilitates cashless transactions that is very popular in South Korea; something like the Philippines’ GCash or the US’ Venmo and CashApp.
> 
> Title is a lyric from the song 'stuck with u' by Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande.
> 
> On another unrelated note, it seems I am bad at writing dialogue, but like writing vignettes. This is why I never go to writing workshops as a fictionist. One of my poet peers even said, "you're really into writing vignettes without dialogue." Sue me, I'm a non-fictionist at heart.

**March 13, Friday, 23:13**

No one can blame Seonghwa for missing out on the announcement over the radio in the cab he and Hongjoong are taking to Hongjoong’s house if the blue-haired boy would not even let him breathe in between deep kisses as the president declares, _“—the best course of action for our country right now is to go on total lockdown. We will be closing our airports, harbors and borders from people who enter our country for the next two weeks so we can mitigate the spread of the virus.”_

Hongjoong pulls away and nips at the juncture between Seonghwa’s neck and right shoulder, pressing him against the cab window as he bites and sucks on the skin. Seonghwa gasps at the feeling of Hongjoong’s teeth playing with his neck, loud enough to cover the next part of the announcement. _“No one is allowed outside of their homes unless it is to go to the supermarkets, social gatherings are prohibited and social spaces like clubs and malls will be shut down. All people who are not home this evening must isolate just in case the virus has been spread in our country without our knowledge.”_

The car stops. Hongjoong pays hurriedly and opens the door, pulling Seonghwa with him to his flat.

* * *

**March 14, Saturday, 10:03**

_“—last night the President has declared a national lockdown after the WHO strongly recommended doing so to slow down the spread of the virus—”_

Seonghwa shifts in his bed. The TV is so loud, and that is not even normal. Hongjoong never turns on the TV, not even when Seonghwa is not at his house. He inches closer to where he believed Hongjoong’s warmth would be found, but cannot seem to come in contact with any skin. His sleep-addled brain ignores this information, anyway, and continues to sleep.

_“—club patrons and anyone who visited malls and parks yesterday are highly recommended to isolate for fourteen days, that is, two weeks—”_

The door swings open, its hinges screeching. Two heavy steps come in contact with the floor, and he is shaken awake. “Hwa! Hwa, get up.”

Seonghwa groans, rolling away. “No…”  
“Seonghwa, the country is in lockdown. You can’t leave.”  
“Oh?” he smiles dozily, burying himself further in the blankets, “but I’m not leaving Korea?” He can feel Hongjoong’s hands on him. He takes hold of Hongjoong’s wrist, and pulls him down to lie next to him. “Why’d you get up so early? TV was loud…”

“I told you, the country is in lockdown—” Hongjoong attempts to explain, but he is interrupted by the loud ringing of a phone on the nightstand. Come to think of it, that is Seonghwa’s ringtone for calls… He feels a phone being shoved into his hand.

“Someone called Jinsoul is calling,” comes Hongjoong’s voice.

That startles Seonghwa awake.

He takes the phone from Hongjoong’s hand, lying on his back as he clicks the ‘accept’ button. “Hello, noona?”  
“Seonghwa!” Jinsoul exclaims from the other side. _“Where are you? You told me you went out last night.”  
_He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “I did. Why did you call?”  
_“Did you just wake up?”  
_“Yes.”  
_“Oh gosh, you won’t be ready for what I’m about to tell you, then.”  
_“What is it? Someone woke me up telling me about the lockdown too…”  
_“Yes, we’re going into lockdown to prevent COVID from spreading. No one goes in or out of the country, not even from their homes. School too.”  
_“What—no one can go to school?”  
_“Yep.”_

Seonghwa sits up in shock. “What!? No, I— they must have an exception for teachers staying in the dormitories.”  
Jinsoul sighs, _“I wish there was, Seonghwa, but the president said the people who went out last night have to isolate, and when I checked your room this morning you weren’t in.”  
_“Well, can’t we ask the university president? The dean? Surely they’ll—”  
_“Seonghwa,”_ Jinsoul starts, _“the dormitories are not under the direction of our dean. And the university president is liable if you do have the virus and he lets you in just because you stay here. Moon already said anyone who went out on leisure has to isolate for fourteen days. Be rational, Seonghwa. Where were you even last night?”  
_“Club hopping…”  
Jinsoul groans. _“Jesus Christ, that doesn’t help.”_ Seonghwa imagines she is already pinching her nose bridge. He wants to whine.

“But noona,” he starts, “midterm grades are due on the twenty-first. My test papers, the essays… I can’t submit any grades if I have nothing to check. If I have to sleep outside campus, can’t I at least come for two hours to get my stuff? I don’t even have my laptop here…”

 _“Good point,”_ Jinsoul says in a soft voice. _“Okay, as your coordinator, I’ll e-mail the dean for you to see what we can do, if we can override anything for a bit. For now, stay where you are. Where are you anyway?”_

Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong, who was staring at him during the entire phone call. “Hongjoong.” Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise. “I’m at his house,” Seonghwa continues, “I slept over.”

 _“Oh my god,”_ cries Jinsoul, _“you went out with him, are you serious? Aren’t you—”  
_“I know, you don’t need to say it.” Next to him, Hongjoong mouths, ‘say what?’ Seonghwa shakes his head.

 _“Does he have another bed, at least?”  
_“Not that I know of,” Seonghwa ekes, trying to keep his words vague to keep eavesdropping Hongjoong in the dark, “just one, from what I know. I’ll ask.”  
Jinsoul sighs again. Seonghwa feels bad. _“Be careful, Seonghwa. I know you like—”  
_“I know, noona. I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything will happen. It’s not like that, he’s not like that.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows come together as he whispers, “not like what?” Seonghwa shakes his head again, looking away towards the window.

 _“I wish I could give you a hug,”_ says Jinsoul.  
Seonghwa hums. “Update me when the dean responds?”  
_“Of course. Are you sending me away now?”_ Jinsoul scoffs jokingly, _“after the concern— are you gonna have a wild round two with him?”  
_“Noona!” Seonghwa cries, “we’re not! We’re just gonna have breakfast.”  
_“You’re the breakfast.”  
_“Noona!” Seonghwa bites his lower lip, ears turning dusty pink. “I’m telling on you to Jaehyun-ssi, I’m hanging up now. Text me what the dean says.”  
_“At least Jaehyun and I are dating,”_ cackles Jinsoul, _“be safe, wear protection!”  
_“Noona! Ugh, bye.” Seonghwa pulls the phone off his cheek and clicks the ‘end call’ button, then tosses it to the foot of the bed. He collapses back down to the bed with a groan.

“Who’s Jinsoul?” Hongjoong asks, pulling the blankets higher up to Seonghwa’s shoulders and resting his arm over Seonghwa’s waist.  
“Gen Ed English coordinator. Also my only friend.”  
Hongjoong hums, inching closer. He pulls Seonghwa towards him at the same time. “She knows about me?”  
“Mm,” Seonghwa responds, “I told her about you.”  
“Aww, you told your friend about me?” Hongjoong pulls his hand off Seonghwa’s waist to pinch his cheek, “you’re cute.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Just to let her know that if I die because I got dicked too hard it’s your fault and she will sue.”

Hongjoong laughs, a loud, happy, twinkly thing with his whole chest that gets his eyes scrunched up. Seonghwa’s heart flutters; sometimes in moments like these, the quiet ones the morning after, he thinks he and Hongjoong could be more than the casual fucking they do now, the kind of relationship where hearts are involved without uncertainty of whether or not they can tell their friends about them. For now, it is taboo, and Seonghwa is unsure about who he is.

It is strange: Seonghwa has his dream job teaching in university, but the rest of his life in shambles. He has an active sex life without any romance no matter how much he wants more, parents who have disowned him the week after graduation after he came out to them, and his own friends moving away after graduation. Now they’re in the middle of a global pandemic, stuck with the man he is getting dicked down on the regular and secretly in love with because of the overnight lockdown. One really cannot have anything.

Hongjoong flicks his forehead. Seonghwa’s eyes snap open, not realizing he fell asleep staring at Hongjoong’s eyelashes. “Let’s get breakfast. I have a pancake mix from when I babysat my sister’s kids.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow. “You have a sister?”  
“A twin, yeah. She’s married with two kids, also twins. Do you think if we had kids, we’d also have twins?”  
Seonghwa forces himself to laugh, ignoring the burning sensation he feels in his chest when he sees Hongjoong’s duck-like pout asking that sort of question. “We’re men!”  
“Didn’t hurt to ask,” Hongjoong shrugs. He sits up. “Come on, pancakes.” He offers a hand for Seonghwa to take, and Seonghwa does not hesitate.

* * *

**March 15, Sunday, 09:10**

“I’m really sorry, again,” says Seonghwa as he takes the towel Hongjoong is handing to him. The two are standing outside the bathroom after the realization that Seonghwa living with Hongjoong for the next two weeks meant he needed to shower and borrow Hongjoong’s clothes (yes, including the underwear), use his toiletries, sleep in his bed, and eat his food.

Hongjoong’s hair is a whole show as he hands the towel to Seonghwa, sticking up in two different places that make him look like he is growing a pair of cat ears. Seonghwa is torn between laughing and cooing at the shorter boy with blue cat ears. Hongjoong is really cute, Seonghwa muses. What he’d give to give Hongjoong kisses all over his cheeks and baby him.

At Seonghwa’s apology, Hongjoong blearily waves him off with his eyes half-closed. He was clearly trying to say something with his words, but to Seonghwa, it sounds like a garble. He leans in to ask Hongjoong to repeat it, but Hongjoong had already dragged his feet back to the bedroom, “just come in and get clothes after,” he says, clearer this time, “and make food.” With that, Hongjoong closes the door behind him.

Seonghwa emerges out of the bathroom after his shower with a towel around his waist, hair damp and smelling like Hongjoong’s pillows. He tries to tamp down the butterflies swarming in his stomach at the knowledge that he smells exactly like Hongjoong, like they really are a couple and not just a pair who fuck on the regular. He enters the bedroom to see Hongjoong asleep on his stomach with his mouth slightly open. As he closes the door behind him Hongjoong’s eyes open into tired slits, a sleepy smile on his face. “Is it breakfast time already?”

“No, I’m just here to get clothes—” he heads to Hongjoong’s drawers with the intent of getting clothes.  
“I meant you, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa blushes. “Hongjoong!” he exclaims, turning to look at the boy lying on the bed.  
Hongjoong has rearranged himself on the bed so he is lying on his back, looking straight at Seonghwa. He raises his arm to beckon him forward. “Come to bed.”  
“I’m wet.”  
“Perfect,” Hongjoong’s sleepy smile transforms into a smirk. “Come on.”  
“Hongjoong—”  
“My god, Hwa, come on, before I start touching myself without you. God, you’re so hot—” Hongjoong’s hands disappear under the sheets, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen.  
“You are a menace, I swear,” says Seonghwa, approaching the bed as Hongjoong bites his lower lip. He hovers over the smaller boy. “A playful little cat. What can I do to get you to behave?”  
“I can think of a few things,” mutters Hongjoong, pulling his hand out of the blanket to take Seonghwa’s towel off of him.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “You’re so spoiled, you’ll be the death of me.”  
“Mm, no,” says Hongjoong, wrapping a hand around Seonghwa’s cock, “I keep you alive by letting you live with me, so.” He rubs a thumb over the head, and Seonghwa hisses.

When it comes to Hongjoong, he swears he has no control. He dips his head in Hongjoong’s neck, and bites.

* * *

**March 16, Monday, 08:49**

Hongjoong is sitting on the sofa with both feet propped up, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you awake so early? The meeting is at nine.”  
Seonghwa glares at him from where he is sat on the floor, Hongjoong’s laptop propped up in front of him on the living room coffee table. “It doesn’t kill anyone to be early!”  
“It’s eight-fifty. You don’t even have the meeting link yet,” Hongjoong points out, finally managing to get one eye open. His hair is up in cat ear shapes again. “And we haven’t had breakfast.”  
“Just make coffee, I—” Seonghwa says, but Hongjoong lets out a weak groan that sounds almost like a cat’s purr.

“You are not having only coffee for breakfast, Hwa. I’ll make you scrambled eggs,” he declares, but makes no move to get up to make good on his promise. Instead, he zones out.

Seonghwa stares at him, amused. “You gonna move soon, kitty?”  
Hongjoong turns to him, “Huh? Oh,” he snorts, “I’m getting up. Call me that in bed next time.” With that, he gets off the sofa and sashays to the kitchen.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “Hongjoong!” he cries, struggling to keep his eyes off Hongjoong’s ass in the pajama pants he wore to bed.

In the time Hongjoong gets to cooking in the kitchen, Seonghwa had received an e-mail from the Dean of Education containing the link to their Google Meet, and they had gone through the agenda of the meeting: the university will be physically closed over the two-week lockdown, and shifting to online learning for the next two weeks. No one can enter the university, _“not even you, Mister Park,_ ” the Dean says, smiling sympathetically at him.

Seonghwa pouts playfully, and nods. “Noted, Professor Ahn.”

 _“I hope you have a safe place to stay in, either way?”_ Professor Ahn inquires.  
“Yes, I’m—” Seonghwa begins, but is interrupted by a clattering of plates on the coffee table and a kiss to the top of his head. He freezes.

“Eat up, babe,” Hongjoong says as he stands up right, a shit-eating grin on his face. He takes a seat on the sofa, picking up his plate from the coffee table to start eating. Seonghwa wants him to choke on his rice.

 _“Who was that?”_ Professor Ahn tilts her head in a way Seonghwa hopes is accepting and not at all homophobic.  
“M-My boyfriend, Professor,” he stutters out. “I was visiting him for the weekend but I got caught in the lockdown, so I am staying with him in the meantime. I wasn’t able to cook this morning because I was getting ready for the meeting, so he made me food.”  
_“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I think that’s sweet. I hope my wife did the same for me. I always have to do the cooking,”_ Professor Ahn winks at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. Jinsoul laughs. Professor Ahn presses on. _“Now, for the rest of this meeting we will be discussing the online learning methods we can choose from to apply in our own subjects—”_ she starts, _“—feel free to do anything you like, as long as you keep listening. Jinsoul is taking minutes so she will send those over soon to the rest of the college faculty, and click the ‘raise hand’ button at the bottom of the screen if you have any inquiries.”_

Seonghwa mutes the microphone. “Kim Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong cackles from where he is seated.

* * *

**March 17, Tuesday, 07:54**

“Seonghwa, you didn’t go to bed,” is the first thing Seonghwa hears in the morning.

“Huh?” he looks up to where Hongjoong’s voice was coming from by the bedroom door, forcing his eyes to stay open. His fingers continue to move across the keys without looking at the screen. “Oh.”

Hongjoong was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, looking at him. He sighs. “Did you eat anything?”  
“You hid the coffee powder.”

Hongjoong gets off the doorframe and walks towards him. “You tried to make coffee. You didn’t make breakfast?”  
“No. Can I have coffee?”

“No, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong answers, standing behind Seonghwa. “How many times have you charged my laptop?”  
“Three times… I think…”

Hongjoong leans forward to get a better look at Seonghwa’s work on the screen, “what are you working on?”  
“Modules.”  
“What?”  
“Weekly lessons and worksheets for the students to download and read on their own for the week.”  
“How many do you need to make?”  
“I teach two subjects, and we have four more weeks of class to go, so around eight?”

Hongjoong sits next to him. “What are you teaching?”  
“Basics of Research, and Twenty-First Century Lit.”  
“Can I see?”

Seonghwa opens up the ‘SEONGHWA’ folder on the desktop of Hongjoong’s laptop and shows him the most recent module he made for his Literature class—the one for upload in three weeks. Hongjoong takes the liberty of scrolling through it.

“This is seven pages long!”  
“Yes…?” Seonghwa’s brows come together.  
“So much to read…”  
“It’s a literature class, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa answers dryly.  
Hongjoong reaches the homework section of the module. “You assign them a reading then make them write an essay?”  
“Yes.”  
“How many did you finish so far?”  
“Um,” Seonghwa takes Hongjoong’s hand that was resting on the trackpad of the laptop in his, and uses his other hand to click on the ‘SEONGHWA’ folder again. “Two for Research, and three more for Lit.”  
“Does your dean need these immediately or something? Does she ask for these?”  
Seonghwa closes the ‘SEONGHWA’ folder and the window showing the Literature module. “It’s due Friday.”

“Friday—“ Hongjoong gets up from the floor and closes the laptop. “You’re going to sleep. Now.” He offers a hand to Seonghwa to help him up. Seonghwa does not take it. He merely looks up.

“What?”  
“You’re going to sleep. Come on, let’s go to bed.”  
“But—” Seonghwa pulls on Hongjoong’s hand, wanting him to come down and sit next to him again, “I need to finish today, so tomorrow I can ask Jinsoul noona to send scans of the test papers I need to check, then start checking and computing the grades—”  
“Grades?”  
“Midterm was last week, remember?” If Seonghwa makes puppy eyes at him, Hongjoong will let him work, right?  
“And when are your grades due?”  
“Saturday.”

Hongjoong exhales. “Jesus, Hwa,” he says, exasperated, “look, I’ll help you in checking, or whatever. You look like you were doing drugs last night, please get some sleep.”  
“Give back the laptop, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa pleads weakly, attempting to reach for the laptop from where he was sitting.  
Hongjoong does not give it. “No. It’s mine and I am not letting you borrow it until you get some sleep. I’m locking this up with the coffee.”

“But—” Seonghwa sighs. He looks down on the floor with a pout. He looks up. “Can I at least have some food? I’m hungry.”

Hongjoong grins cutely at him. Even in his sleepy haze, the butterflies in Seonghwa’s stomach awaken at the sight of Hongjoong’s smile aimed towards him. Hongjoong puts a hand over Seonghwa’s head and ruffles his hair. “You’re so cute. I’ll make breakfast, then we can go back to bed. When Jinsoul sends the scans, we can check them together, okay? Your job is insane.” Hongjoong heads to the kitchen immediately with the laptop in hand, and Seonghwa is left in the living room, staring at nothing.

* * *

**March 18, Wednesday, 11:32**

Seonghwa is woken up by a loud noise he can only understand as… a beat drop?

“Hong?” he calls, patting wherever his arms could reach to feel for Hongjoong, only to realize that he is alone. He stretches and rubs his eyes, then ambles out of the room to look for Hongjoong, who is very clearly awake if he is not in bed and has enough awareness to answer him when he will ask what that sound is.

When he leaves the bedroom, he can feel the furniture vibrate with the beat drop. He wonders if he should ask Hongjoong to call the management of the apartment complex to file a complaint about rambunctious upstairs neighbors having a dance party at—he looks at the clock in the kitchen—eleven in the morning.

Except, the more awake he gets with the vibrations of the music affecting even the liquid in his brain, the more he realizes that the sound is coming from the second door in the same flat. He follows the sound, twisting the doorknob open to find Hongjoong sitting on an office chair facing his laptop propped on top of a table. His laptop is surrounded by various… turntables and things and sorts Seonghwa had only ever seen on album-making documentaries operated by producers outside the recording booth.

Was Hongjoong secretly G-Dragon or something?

“Sick set-up,” Seonghwa shouts, “would be better if you turned it down!”

Hongjoong falls off his chair. “Hwa! Morning!” he slams a hand on the space bar to pause the song.  
“Good morning. You woke me up.”  
“Sorry,” Hongjoong scratches the back of his neck. “I was just working on something, kind of, uh… missed two days of work so I’m making up for it.”

Seonghwa slams a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, is it because I had to use your laptop for my work? I am so sorry.”  
Hongjoong only smiles, teeth on full display. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. You needed it more, my job is a bit more flexible—” Hongjoong gets up from the floor and sits on the chair again, “do you need my laptop today? I was just cleaning that one up, after breakfast I’ll hand this over.”

Seonghwa does not answer. Instead, he opts to stare at Hongjoong fluttering about, saving and closing and whatever it is he is doing on the laptop. “What do you do for a living, Hongjoong? Do you make music?”  
Hongjoong does not face Seonghwa, but his ears turn red. “Yes, I do.”  
“Why didn’t I know that?” Seonghwa steps forward.  
“I didn’t exactly tell you,” Hongjoong pauses in his movements, “and you didn’t tell me your job, too, Mister Professor.”

Seonghwa puts his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders. “Touché, Producer Man,” says Seonghwa in a low voice, resting his chin on top of Hongjoong’s head, “will you let me hear one of your tracks?”  
Hongjoong chuckles. “Actually, you’ve heard my music.”  
“I have?”  
“You have. Remember that time we were clubbing like two months ago, and I suddenly pulled you to the bathroom and we made out?”  
“We do that a lot, but yeah I do remember.”  
“It was because they were playing my song.”  
“I—I don’t remember. Play me one, anyway.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Alright,” he opens a folder leading into another folder, into another folder and into another folder until he opens a file entitled ‘IF WITHOUT YOU DEMO’.

“I rap in this one, let me just mute that—”  
“No, let me hear it.”  
“You sure? I’m not that great.”  
“I wanna hear.”

The song starts with an English hook, Hongjoong’s voice crooning in a clean falsetto that Seonghwa has never heard before, _“if without you, without you,”_ followed by a boy with a deeper, creamier voice, _“on a sunny afternoon, I’m hanging like a cat.”_

“Like a cat?” Seonghwa laughs, “that’s cute.”  
“Ssh!” Hongjoong slaps Seonghwa’s hand on his shoulder, but it does not hurt.

 _“If without you, without you,”_ the hook returns again in a clean falsetto. _“My appetite seems to disappear,”_ he continues to croon, _“so stay by my side, stay by my side,”_ he sings, his tone falling downwards, as if signalling the end of the chorus.

The synth fanfare of the chorus then dies off, giving way to the more stripped instrumental of twinkling sounds and a simple bass pattern. Ushered by a cute Teletubby-type cheer, _“I don’t want you big,”_ Hongjoong raps, _“I want you but what do you want more? I’ll bite your tail again.”_

“Are you… are you personifying a cat in this song?”  
Hongjoong covers his face with his hands. “Oh my god, this is embarrassing. The band liked to present themselves as catboys, okay, so this is like a fan song.”

 _“Mmm, this too. Mmm, that too. Because my world is all over you, I live more in your arms,”_ the Hongjoong on the track continues to rap. _“Your scent stays in my heart, I’m fluttering every time I’m choking.”_

“I also kind of wrote this after you called me ‘kitty’,” Hongjoong mutters before he slams a hand on the keyboard. “My god.” He buries his face in his hands again.

Seonghwa is frozen in place. “What?”  
“Nothing. I’ll make food.” Hongjoong attempts to stand up, but Seonghwa weighing down on his shoulders makes it difficult.  
“No, you said something. You wrote this after I called you ‘kitty’,” Seonghwa repeats. “Aw, you’re so cute. You wrote me a love song.” He pinches Hongjoong’s cheeks, refusing to acknowledge the warmth in his stomach that is not hunger.

Hongjoong huffs, puffing his cheeks out in petulance. “It’s not a love song,” he pouts, “it’s a song about friendship.”  
“Sure, Hongie, sure,” coos Seonghwa, still pinching and poking his cheeks. Hongjoong swats him away.

“Aish! I’m making you breakfast.” Hongjoong exclaims, getting up from his seat to leave the music room and go to the kitchen. “It’s not a love song.” Seonghwa watches him leave the room.

“Didn’t have to rub it in that you don’t like me,” Seonghwa mutters.

* * *

**March 19, Thursday, 14:35**

Seonghwa hears Hongjoong’s feet against the floorboards, making a run for it, the moment Seonghwa screams.  
“What’s wrong?” demands Hongjoong.  
Seonghwa just starts tearing up. “I can’t do it!” he says, holding his head in his hands, “it’s too hard to work like this.” Seonghwa looks up with a slouch, pout emerging on his lips as he sees Hongjoong in a frilly white apron.

“You look ridiculous.”

Hongjoong glares. “Alright, I’ll let that pass because you’re upset. What are you crying about?” he asks, taking off the apron and sitting next to him on the floor, in front of the coffee table. The laptop is set up on the table, a browser window pulled up with more tabs than Hongjoong has ever attempted to open.

Seonghwa huffs again, this time in a more petulant manner. “I have to check these,” he opens the first tab—a Google Drive folder labelled ‘SCANS’, then hovers the cursor over a sub-folder called ‘LIT’. “There’s ninety-two students in total for my Lit class, three sections.” He double-clicks the sub-folder. “There’s an essay from two weeks ago that I haven’t gotten around to checking, then there’s the midterms.” Seonghwa clicks the ‘back’ button.

“And this one?” Hongjoong points a finger on the second sub-folder entitled ‘RES’.  
“It’s for my Research classes. Two sections, eighty exam papers, and they’re divided into six groups per section for their research output so I have to check twelve manuscripts, and there’s scoresheets from their presentation two weeks ago too that I need to record.”  
“And these need to be computed and submitted and uploaded… this Saturday?”  
Seonghwa nods. “And I’m not sure where to start and how to go about it, too, because I don’t have the physical papers or even a pen to scribble with. They’re all digital and I know how to do it in theory, but it’s not the best way. Conducive. I’m having a mental block.”

Hongjoong’s eyes are wide open. “W-Wow,” he stutters, “I—I didn’t know being a teacher was hard. They always said it was just ‘teacher-nag-teacher-fail’ just by looking at your face.”  
Seonghwa shakes his head good-naturedly, “Not at all. I mean, it was like that during our time, but nowadays teachers are taught to grade by merit. What the kids gives, they get it back.”

They sit in silence, staring at the laptop screen as Seonghwa navigates around it with the trackpad, showing Hongjoong what needs to be done. “I know you have work to do too, but I don’t know if I can return the laptop to you today. I have so much to do. The kids are sending me e-mails too, I—” he opens the tab showing his e-mails, “it’s like every second I refresh there’s two new e-mails of kids trying to find ways to drop out but pass. I don’t know what to tell them.”

Despite Seonghwa’s tirade, Hongjoong looks like he is not listening. If anything, he seems deep in thought.

“When’s this due again?”  
“The grades?” Seonghwa’s brows come together, “this Saturday. Twenty-first.”  
“Alright, I think the landlord has a printer, and we can borrow pens from my neighbor—”  
“What?”  
“Can you download those files? I’ll go get my flash drive in the office and we can go downstairs and ask the landlord to let us borrow the printer.”  
“What?!” shrieks Seonghwa, “no! No, there is no need, Hongjoong. I’ll just suck it up. It’s my fault for not staying in last Friday, anyway.”  
Hongjoong stands up anyway, and stares at Seonghwa. “You just said checking digitally is not the best case scenario for you. I’m just trying to give you an alternative—”  
“There’s really no need—” Seonghwa starts, pulling Hongjoong’s hand, “I can manage—”

“But I can’t, Seonghwa,” says Hongjoong, “I also need the laptop, I have a job too. If you have a couple of pens and a printed copy of the kids’ work, we can work simultaneously. If you think about it, it’ll help us both too.”  
“But the landlord, printer ink is expensive.”  
“Then we’ll tell him we’ll pay him back by ordering new printer ink for him, alright? A whole set, even, if you want colored printouts.” Hongjoong crouches. He puts a hand on top of Seonghwa’s head and brushes the hair out of Seonghwa’s eyes. “Look, it’s alright. Stop overthinking. I’ll do the talking too, okay? Just download the files and I’ll help you out.”

Seonghwa is mesmerized by the sincerity swimming in Hongjoong’s eyes. “O-Okay. Thank you.”  
Hongjoong smiles, then kisses Seonghwa’s forehead.

* * *

**March 20, Friday, 02:16**

The bed dips.

Seonghwa wakes up at this sensation, and rolls over towards where the bed dips. “What time is it?” he grumbles as the blanket lifts and he feels cold feet against his calves. He is too drowsy to flinch away. “Your feet are cold.”

“It’s two-fifteen. Go back to sleep,” Hongjoong replies with a yawn. He kisses Seonghwa’s forehead again. “I just went ahead and checked the remaining papers.”  
Something does not register in Seonghwa’s half-asleep mind. “What…?”  
“I checked the Research midterm papers for you and recorded the presentation scoresheets so you only need to look at the manuscripts tomorrow then upload the grades in the afternoon.”  
“What?”

Hongjoong chuckles, putting an arm around Seonghwa’s waist. “I’ll tell you again in the morning, now go back to sleep.”  
“Okay,” says Seonghwa, “but I’m sucking your dick in the morning.”

Hongjoong chortles, and Seonghwa falls asleep again.

* * *

**March 21, Saturday, 10:43**

Seonghwa inhales deeply, then exhales just as deeply. “You mean to tell me,” he begins, “that we don’t have any food for lunch.”  
Hongjoong nods, sheepish. “We’re out of groceries.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes. “I’ll go,” he moves towards the door, but Hongjoong raises his hands to stop him.  
“No, you don’t have to. You’re my guest.”  
“Who ate half your food and practically harbored your laptop for myself. I’ll go.”  
“And I’m saying no, Seonghwa. You’re my guest. Let me do it, just write me a list,” replies Hongjoong sternly, “besides, if I let you out of here, what if you escape and leave me?” he pouts.

Seonghwa’s brain short-circuits, and so does his mouth. He starts spluttering in astonishment. “I’m not gonna run away, Hongjoong. Where do you think I’ll go?”  
“Back to school.”

“Oh, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa’s face scrunches in the way that it does when he laughs too hard, the expression that makes him look like he is in too much pain. “I’m not gonna go back to school, okay? You’re so cute—” Ah, fuck. That slipped.

Quick, don’t let him catch wind of it! He pinches Hongjoong’s cheek. “Even if I ran away, the school wouldn’t let me back in, anyway. Everyone already knows where I went last Friday.”

Hongjoong keeps pouting.

Seonghwa sighs. “Okay, okay. I won’t go out. You will. I’ll write the list of things we need?”  
Hongjoong beams, then nods.  
“Okay, get your coat. I’ll text you our list then we can split the cost on Toss later when you get home with the receipt.”  
Hongjoong gives him a bemused look. “What do you mean ‘split’?”  
Seonghwa gives him the same look in response, “we… split the cost? I pay you back for half of the groceries…? By sending you money on Toss?”

Hongjoong keeps staring at him. “No,” he replies simply, and goes to his room. He comes back out with a black face mask over his nose and mouth, and baby blue peacoat in one arm.

It was the same baby blue peacoat that Seonghwa saw on Hongjoong’s Instagram, the one Seonghwa adored so much on Hongjoong that he left a ‘like’ and texted Hongjoong that he looked great in it even if they never sent sweet texts like that (being it used to be just a number they could trust to send risqué texts whenever they were in the mood). He looked so nice in it that Seonghwa broke an unspoken rule.

Seonghwa watched Hongjoong head to the entryway, grabbing his keys from the bowl on top of the shoe cabinet. He slips on some expensive-looking flipflops, then opens the door to leave for the grocery store. “Text me the stuff we need. And I’m getting you a laptop.”  
“What—!?” Seonghwa screams, only to see the door slammed shut in his face.

He runs for the door and opens it to find no one out in the hallway, but the loud clattering of Hongjoong’s flipflops as he runs down the stairs. “Hongjoong!” he yells. His voice echoes throughout the stairwell.

But Hongjoong could not hear him.

* * *

**March 22, Sunday, 14:52**

“Seonghwa.”  
“I’ll be right there, just let me finish this.”  
“Seonghwa, it’s almost three PM. You need to have lunch.”  
“I’m not hungry.”  
“Seonghwa.” A hand comes over his laptop screen, closing it shut and trapping his hands between the fold. Hongjoong is looming over the cross-legged Seonghwa, a stern look on his face. “You’re starved. Come have lunch.”  
“Just let me finish this,” Seonghwa replies, trying to push the screen back up. Hongjoong pushes the screen down harder. The smaller boy’s gaze hardens.

Seonghwa’s heart races. Why is he so concerned? “Why are you so concerned?”

He wants to let the butterflies fly about in his stomach, but instead, he is irritated. Why is Hongjoong bothering him so much about eating his meals? He’ll eat when he’s free.

Hongjoong scoffs, “I’m not letting you kill yourself because of your job, you workaholic. Come have lunch, I have ice cream.”  
“I don’t have the time, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa whines, “the kids are sending me e-mails about their grades and I have modules to make, this is a priority!”  
“And your health isn’t?” Hongjoong bites back. “How are you supposed to keep working if you get ulcers from working so hard that you miss your meals? Just have lunch, Seonghwa.”  
Seonghwa really does not want to argue, but he has to finish these. “I will, Hongjoong. Just not now.”

Hongjoong is silent for a moment. His hand lets go of the laptop and places it over Seonghwa’s head, mussing up his hair. “You get me so worried, kitten,” he mutters, pushing Seonghwa’s hair back.

Seonghwa freezes upon hearing the pet name. “What?”  
“Kitten is always working so hard, and it’s like his job doesn’t end. He always has something new to do every day and he’s packed,” Hongjoong pouts, continuing his ministrations with Seonghwa’s hair, “I wish kitten had more time for me and for himself.”

Fuck. Seonghwa’s eyes slip shut at the sensation, “Hongjoong…” he breathes. He cannot go into subspace right now. “I’m sorry, I just need to finish this.”

Hongjoong stops petting him immediately. Upset, Seonghwa opens his eyes.  
“I understand, pet,” Hongjoong replies, voice low. “I just miss you.”

Seonghwa stares at the other boy, at a loss. He _misses_ Seonghwa? How is that possible? They are living under one roof, eating together, sleeping together, and watching the news together. How can you miss someone you see every day, especially now that it has been a week since the start of their isolation? And besides, why would he miss Seonghwa, despite with their close proximity, when it is a general unspoken rule in friends-with-benefits relationships never to feel anything other than sexual attraction? Yes, Seonghwa had been busy with work, but there was a deadline to meet that he could not afford to waste time; he had a good track record with the dean, he did not want to let her down. His friend-with-benefit be damned, forgotten, and left to rot in his bed because of lack of interaction.

Even so, he knows Hongjoong is right. It is not good to abandon basic needs and necessities because it was important for him to meet a clearly idealistic deadline, especially for someone like him who only started teaching this year. This adjustment to his job has him eating, sleeping and waking up at irregular hours, tries to hold in his pee to keep working, and ignoring Hongjoong in favor of doing his work without interruption. He only sees Hongjoong, but he never speaks to him. What kind of friends-with-benefits relationship is one that is touch-starved?

Hongjoong sighs. “I’ll leave your lunch on the table—” he says, about to turn away, but Seonghwa catches grip of his hand.  
Hongjoong stops and turns back around. “Hm?”

Seonghwa, without any words, tugs Hongjoong’s hand back towards the top of his head. He puffs his cheeks. “Take care of me?” he pleads, widening his eyes the way Hongjoong likes, the one where he looks helpless and at Hongjoong’s mercy, “please?”

* * *

**March 23, Monday, 20:06**

“I don’t care if this friend gave you a kidney and saved your life! You are not going to your friend’s birthday and that is final, Kim Hongjoong!”

The door slams shut.

* * *

**March 24, Tuesday, 03:17**

He feels an arm wrapping around his waist in his sleep. He forces his eyes open. It is still dark out, and he cannot twist his body to check the time on the clock by the end table, but he is sure it is way too early to be considered early. The light of the building across the street helps him see the outline of Hongjoong’s nose, his face moving closer to him, eyes closed.

“Hongjoong?” groans Seonghwa. He wants to ask questions: is he still mad at Seonghwa for not letting him go out to his friend Yunho’s house? Did he even go to Yunho’s house after they fought? Is he going to kick Seonghwa out now? Where would he go? Is it clearer to him now that Seonghwa has feelings for him that run deeper than they should?

“Go to back to sleep,” Hongjoong replies, nuzzling closer to his neck. Seonghwa ends up not getting the chance to ask any of these questions.

Even if he wants to argue, his brain is still three-quarters asleep and he cannot pull the fight out of him. Instead, he heeds the other boy’s words. “Okay,” he acquiesces, letting Hongjoong snuggle even closer to him, like that behavior is not weird or out-of-bounds. “Good night.”

Hongjoong kisses Seonghwa’s jaw. “Good night.”

* * *

**March 25, Wednesday, 18:54**

“Hongjoong, sit down.”  
“I just don’t understand why you hate living with me so much!”  
Seonghwa grabs Hongjoong’s wrist. “I did not say that.”  
“Well, you might as well have!” Hongjoong violently tugs his wrist away.

Seonghwa sighs, clearly exasperated. “Hongjoong…”  
The other boy turns around aggressively. “What?!”

Seonghwa sighs again. “I don’t hate living here, alright?” he starts, getting off his seat. He puts his hands on Hongjoong’s biceps—which are bulging, what the hell? Has he been working out and Seonghwa had yet to notice? Or is it because he is mad?—and pulls him closer. “I told you, I just don’t feel ready for the situation without my stuff here. I don’t have any of my supplies and the kids’ papers. No matter how many laptops you buy for me or how many times we scan my kids’ work, it’s just better for me to go back to school and work there.”

“But I can buy you pens, and paper, and—”

“Hongjoong, baby,” Seonghwa resorts to cupping Hongjoong’s jaw, “why do you think it is _your_ failure when I say that not having my work stuff at your house is not conducive for me to work from home? Hm?”

Hongjoong says nothing, opting to stare into Seonghwa’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, “I just want you to be comfortable, to have what’s best for you.”  
Seonghwa smiles softly. “I am comfortable, baby. I’m just not mentally ready to continue working without my things, okay?”  
“I want to help.”  
“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa trails off, “there’s no need to, okay? There’s really nothing you can do, and that’s okay. Nothing is your fault.”  
“I just want to make it easy for you,” Hongjoong pouts, placing his palms over Seonghwa’s hands on his cheeks.

Seonghwa chuckles. “You already got me a laptop, silly. That is more than enough to continue my work. I just need to get used to it, okay?”  
“Okay…” Hongjoong’s eyes meet the floor.

“Now will you stop being upset with me?” Seonghwa pleads, a lilt in his voice, “I hate it when we fight, the bed gets cold.”

Hongjoong only scrunches his face.

Seonghwa does not know what that means.

* * *

**March 26, Thursday, 16:29**

“Are you really in a hazmat?” Seonghwa says into the phone, a laugh about to emerge from his face.  
_“I’m not, I don’t have the budget for that. I do have gloves on—Jaehyun just parked, we’re gonna get out of the car.”_ A car door slams shut. _“What floor are you again?”  
_“Just the second. The second door on the right from the stairs.”  
“Give me a second to go—are you okay? Hongjoong treating you okay?”

Seonghwa splutters. “What?”  
_“Is he treating you well? Does he finally have feelings—”  
_“What are you talking about, noona? No, he doesn’t…” he laughs awkwardly, “he’s very kind, though. He bought me a laptop so we can work together.”

 _“He what!?”_ Jinsoul’s voice seems to echo around him, in his ear and in the distance.

Seonghwa ignores the question, stumbling on his legs. “Are you outside?”  
_“Is your door baby blue?”  
_“Yes?” he says, taking large steps towards the door.  
_“Yeah, we’re outside—did you make these brownies?”  
_Seonghwa blushes. “Hongjoong and I did, as a thank-you for bringing over my stuff.”

Jinsoul is quiet. “ _You two are ridiculous. How am I gonna return the Tupperware?”  
_“You can just leave it in my dorm, it doesn’t matter.”  
_“We’re putting your bags down now.”  
_“Alright,” he responds, “I’m by the door.”

He hears loud rustling from the phone, the same noises but softer behind their front door.

 _“Okay, we’re leaving now,”_ Jinsoul says.  
“Alright, tell me when you’re halfway down so I can get it.”  
_“Boy, we’re already three-quarters of the way down—”_ Jinsoul laughs.

Seonghwa stammers, attempting to say something. Nothing comes to mind. “Whatever!” he says instead, opening the front door to see the Tupperware of brownies gone. In its place, his black leather backpack and a duffel bag made of similar material and color are on the floor. He makes a grab for them and goes back inside.

“I have the bags.”  
_“We sound like we’re selling drugs.”  
_“Social distancing: success,” he jokingly declares, “thanks again for bringing my stuff over. I really wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t bring them over.”  
_“No worries. Your failure is my failure too, if I wasn’t able to help you. Can you check if we packed everything?”  
_“Give me a moment.” Seonghwa puts down the bags on the dining table and proceeds to open the backpack. “This is everything I listed from the faculty lounge, right?”  
_“Yep, to-check stack, your pen cup, your laptop and charger. I also put in your class record folders and grade forms.”  
_“So the clothes are…” Seonghwa leans down sideways and lodges the phone between his shoulder and ear, “in this other one…” he says, opening the duffel bag with great difficulty. Once he opens it in full, he sees familiar clothes inside the bag, rolled with care. “Did you roll these?”

 _“Why it took so long,”_ Jinsoul answers, sounding proud.  
“I—” Seonghwa stutters again, “thank you, I swear.”  
_“Really not a worry, Hwa. Everything in order?”  
_“Yes, thank you.”  
_“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else, alright?”  
_“Of course. Thank you so much, noona.”

A silence permeates their conversation.

 _“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you into school.”  
_Seonghwa sighs. “It’s okay, noona. You tried. It was my mistake.”  
_“And quarantine got extended for another month too! You’re really stuck with him, are you sure you’re okay?”  
_“Why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing? He’s nice.”

Jinsoul exhales in return. _“I guess he is. Be careful, anyway.”  
_“I am, noona. I will be.”

* * *

**March 27, Friday, 20:15**

“Are you sure—”  
Hongjoong’s arm is aggressively raising to get him to come closer. “Come on, they’re asking for you.”

Seonghwa tries to pull back a smile from gracing his face. “Are you sure—”  
“I am, come on. Please?” Hongjoong pleads, puppy-eyed.

Seonghwa is just a man. A weak, pathetic, whipped man. He sits next to Hongjoong in front of the coffee table. He faces the laptop in front of them.

“Hi,” he says in a small voice, waving and smiling at the laptop.

“Seonghwa!” everyone on-screen screams, as if he was the one having the belated virtual birthday party on Google Meet because they couldn’t celebrate it in real life due to current circumstances.

“Hello again,” he giggles, covering half his face with his hand.

Hongjoong points to the people on the screen. “This one is Yunho and his boyfriend Mingi, and their roommate San,” he introduces, pointing at the square with a blond boy on the top left screen sitting next to a curly strawberry blond boy in glasses. On the other side of the strawberry blond—Mingi—sits a boy with a very black mullet.

“Hello, Yunho, Mingi, and San,” greets Seonghwa, “happy birthday, Yunho.”  
“Thank you!” Yunho has such a happy smile; he is as yellow as his hair, Seonghwa thinks.

“And here,” he points to the square next Yunho and Mingi’s, to a blond boy with a British boy-band hairstyle and the boy next to him with the same hairstyle as Yunho’s, but a dark brown. “Yeosang and Wooyoung, roommates.”  
Seonghwa nods attentively, following his sight to where Hongjoong points at the last square on the top row, to a boy with maroon hair with rosebud lips. “Yeosang is dating Jongho over here.”

Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa’s hand under the table. “Can you come get our drinks with me?”  
Seonghwa jolts at the sudden sensation of a hand on top of his own, turning to look at the smaller boy, “o-oh, okay.”

Hongjoong looks at his friends, “we’re gonna get drinks.”  
“Okay, hyung!”

And so he follows Hongjoong up, and they head to the kitchen together.

Hongjoong opens the fridge. “Can you get the bottle opener?”  
“Okay.” Seonghwa heads to the utensil rack, “hey Hongjoong?”  
“Hm?”  
“How do you have so many gay friends?”  
Hongjoong laughs, the sound coming from his chest. “Long story,” he says as he takes four bottles of flavored beer out of the fridge, “they think you’re my boyfriend.”

Seonghwa’s breath catches in his throat. “What?”

“They think you’re my boyfriend,” he stands upright.  
“Why?”  
“Remember when we, um… fought?” Hongjoong begins, avoiding eye contact with the other boy, “because you wouldn’t let me go celebrate his birthday with them.”

“Uh-huh…” Seonghwa thinks he feels chills up his spine. They really have never fought before, they didn’t have to. And the fact that fight was like the way couples fight… He really is overstepping, and now, Hongjoong is bringing it up a few days later…

“Yeah, I told them, kinda lied actually. I told them I got stuck with my boyfriend in quarantine because we went clubbing the night before, and they got upset that they didn’t know that I had a boyfriend, so I said I was supposed to bring you to meet them but because you said no I just didn’t.”

Seonghwa is silent, frozen staring at the utensil rack.

Hongjoong continues. “They thought it was cute though, that you were concerned. San also kind of agreed, he didn’t want Wooyoung exposed to the virus—which reminds me, San and Wooyoung are like us, you know?”

Seonghwa furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”  
“You know,” Hongjoong shrugs, “like us.”

It takes a while for Seonghwa to understand. “Oh.”  
“Yeah.”

They stand facing each other in silence. Seonghwa awkwardly hands him the bottle opener. He has so many questions.

‘Do you think you’ll be with anyone in a way more than we are?’  
‘Do you think you’ll be with me the way Yunho and Mingi are?’  
‘What do you think of me?’  
‘If I tell you, will you think about it? Or will you turn me away?’

Instead, “do you think we will outgrow this?” Seonghwa asks.  
Hongjoong places the bottles on the counter, and opens a bottle. “Outgrow what?”  
“The way we are. No strings attached.”  
“Are you trying to tell me something, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong quirks an eyebrow.

Seonghwa shakes his head aggressively. “No! Not at all,” he cries defensively, “just—just in general, you know. We’re… ripe.”  
“Ripe?” Hongjoong hands Seonghwa an opened bottle.  
“Yeah.”  
“You wanna marry me, Park Seonghwa?”  
“No—!”

“No?” Hongjoong chuckles. “Aw, you that hurts,” he pouts before he takes a sip. “It’s okay, it’s wishful thinking anyway.”

Seonghwa’s heart breaks. “Wishful thinking?”

Hongjoong pulls the bottle away. “Yeah, wishful thinking. You’re husband material and I’m hermit in a cave at best, why would you look at me like that, anyway?”  
“W-What?”

“Let’s get back to the living room,” says Hongjoong, a tight smile on his lips as he picks up the other unopened bottle and the bottle opener on the counter. He leaves the kitchen.

* * *

**March 28, Saturday, 08:41**

“Hong…”  
“Ssh, let me take care of you. Will you let me?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle despite the dim light in the bedroom. Seonghwa places his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “Do you really mean it?”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do. I’ve liked you more than you let me, for longer than I should.”

“Fuck, it's too early for this,” Hongjoong hisses, collapsing on top of Seonghwa. He continues to kiss Seonghwa’s jaw, nipping at the skin there. “Don’t speak in poetry to me, Park Seonghwa. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”  
Seonghwa chuckles. “Don’t say that, kitten, I want you.”

Hongjoong looks up with a glare, sitting up. “I was soft and wanted to top but no, we’re doing this the other way round. Come on, up.”  
“What?” Seonghwa clarifies, amused.  
“You called me kitten. You have to top me now.”  
“I—”  
“Come on, sit up!” Hongjoong whines, “I wanna ride you and tell you I love you at the same time.”

Seonghwa relents, sitting up and pulling Hongjoong into his lap. “You are crude and disgusting.”  
“Why are you surprised?”  
"I topped last night."  
"Even better, I'm still a little loose from last night. Come on, Hwa."  
“And a brat, too. Should I hit you?”  
“Oh my god, and I’m the crude one.”  
“Should I?”  
“Yes please—oh my god, when did you get the lube, fuck—”  
“You’re so cute. Hey, Hong?”  
“Hm—god. I think I can take another.”  
“Already? My god, I love you.”

Hongjoong stops grinding on Seonghwa’s finger. “I love you too, oh,” he pouts, pushing Seonghwa’s hair back. He kisses him.

“I’m happy,” Seonghwa says as they pull away.  
“I’m happy too.”  
“You sure? You’re stuck with me.”  
“For the rest of quarantine or forever?”

Seonghwa pretends to think. "I can deal with both."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it. talk to me on twt: @marstheworId (the L in world is a capital i). keep safe!


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